


Return to Me

by ashmeera101



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Reunions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-31
Updated: 2016-07-31
Packaged: 2018-07-28 12:43:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7640671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashmeera101/pseuds/ashmeera101
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Inquisition is no more, and the Inquisitor, no, Cadash, was surrounded by silence. Empty halls, a castle that once brimmed with life, now as hollow as the feeling in his chest. Perhaps it is time to leave the place that was no longer a home, to return to the one person he cared for the most in the word. Perhaps it is time to return to her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Return to Her

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hamstr](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hamstr/gifts).



Cadash sat on the throne, his hand against his face as he stared at the great hall. The fires had all been extinguished, the tables empty and scrubbed clean. Varric's corner was already beginning to gather dust, as was the balcony that Vivienne once claimed as her own. All he could hear was the slight creaking of the chandeliers above and the soft sounds from the courtyard outside but otherwise, Skyhold was silent.

Empty.

It had been ten months since they returned from the Exalted Council. And in those ten months, the mountain fortress had seen the complete dismantling of what was once one of the most powerful organisations in Southern Thedas. Equipment had been carted out, cupboards and cellars emptied, and the people began to depart, both in smaller and larger groups, until all you could hear as you stood on the battlements was the gentle lilt of the wind. The forge, the courtyard, the stables, they were all silent.

There were a few that remained however. Josephine had pledged to stay to the end, saying that it would only be over when she locked the great gates herself. She spent her days tying up any loose ends in the Inquisition’s connections, as well as finalizing the last few piles of paperwork. Cullen had said the same – personally overseeing the distribution of troops to several interested factions, as well as relieving many many others of their duty.

Of course those were their official reasons for staying, Cadash thought. He had noticed how they would ‘accidentally’ find themselves where he was; either wandering the battlements or staring at the great map in the War Room – now empty of all its markers and knives, leaving only little holes and memories in their place. They would ask him how he was doing, eyes darting to his left arm before returning to his face as he tried his best to look like he was alright. But he knew they saw the tiredness in his eyes, knew he was finding it difficult to sleep at night. Josephine had offered to get him some poultices, but he declined. The mages were gone as well, and to get the materials they used to provide with such convenience would be expensive. And too much of a hassle just for him.

When they finally left him, he would trace the details of the map, reliving the memories of the last three years. The Storm Coast, where he trekked for hours in the rain and mud as he looked for those damned smoke bottles, listening to both Varric and Dorian grumble behind him. The Fallow Mire, where he had fallen right into one of those sickly lakes and breathed in half a pint of the water, causing him to catch that terrible illness. The Western Approach, filled with wyverns and darkspawn and pungent gas that could kill you in seconds as they fought and fought and finally raised the Inquisition’s banner, claiming Griffon’s Wing keep for themselves. And how they did the same in Caer Bronach, in the Suledin Keep, battling Venatori and Red Templars and everything in between.

His fingers would also find the little notes written on the parchment, and he could make out the difference in writing. Josephine’s neat cursive, Cullen’s scrawl, Leliana’s spindly lettering. Occasionally, under the weight of the years, he would also find the occasional squarish word or two, rare yet so utterly precious. Cassandra rarely put down marks on this map, but when she did, it meant something of worth. And once, he noted, in the heart of the Hinterlands, in Lady Shayna’s Valley, she had made a note.

Ferelden Frostback, 23rd Cloudreach, 9:41 Dragon.

Dragons, he remembered with a sudden rush. The great fire and ice and electricity-spitting creatures that were as breathtaking as they were deadly. The Ferelden Frostback was the first, and he remembered how she was perched on the rocky outcropping, letting out a screech before swooping in to attack. Bull’s roar had echoed almost as loud as the dragon’s as he charged into battle, and they could barely keep up.

There were so many others after her, from the scorching heat of the Approach, the silent winds of the Wastes, the biting chill of the Emprise, but they all rang the same now in his mind. How they would leap into the air, their wingbeats so strong he could feel them in his chest. How they would paw the ground and sweep their tails and breathe death unto his team and himself until they cut them down. How they had felled them one by one until the streets of Val Royeux themselves whispered of the ‘Inquisitor, the great Dragonslayer’.

Buried in these memories, he would pace the battlements in deep thought, not even looking upwards to greet the guards or to notice the sunset. He’d lost track of how many times he’d circled the perimeter of the fortress, but he was sure he’d worn grooves into the smooth stone. And once his legs had tired, which was much earlier than they normally would these days, he would return indoors and sit on the throne, surrounded once again by silence and memories of what once were.

Which is where he was when Josephine emerged from her office.

“Inquisitor?”

He sighed and nodded at her as she approached. “The Inquisition is no more, Josephine. Please, just call me Cadash.”

She smiled at him sadly. “I apologise… Cadash.”

He waved her apology aside with a smile. “It’s alright. I’m sure it’s going to take some getting used to.”

“That would be an understatement.” Cullen had joined them now, nodding at both Josephine and Cadash. “I’ve just inspected the barracks, and save the last dozen or so soldiers, they’re empty. We’re very much ahead of schedule in terms of distribution of manpower.”

“Which brings me to the reason I came to see you, Inq… Cadash.” Josephine flipped over a piece of parchment on her clipboard. “There is to be a final group of soldiers, those young and eager enough to not leave active service, who wish to be of use. Our Divine Victoria herself has reviewed them personally, ensuring that they are loyal and uncorrupted by Solas’ spies.”

He nodded, noticing how Josephine and Cullen sharing a knowing glance. With a frown, he was about to speak but she continued.

“There is also a quantity of supplies that have yet to be cleared out of the forge. These are mainly standard Inquisition-make weapons; swords, shields, arrows, bows and knives. Cullen has inspected these himself, since our smiths have also taken their leave, and he has deemed them fit for use.”

“All in working order, you’ll find.” Cullen added.

Cadash was looking at the two of them very suspiciously now. “And what am I supposed to do with this information, exactly? I don’t think I’m going to be travelling anywhere soon.”

“You might want to reconsider that statement.” Another shared glance, before Cullen cleared his throat. “We received word from the Hunterhorns last week.”

Cadash sat up straight, his heart in his throat and his mind alight. The Hunterhorns. In northern Orlais. Where the Seekers were rebuilding.

Cassandra.

They had been corresponding regularly of course, but with her duties and the sheer distance the letters had to travel, he had only received one of her very crumpled notes from an equally frazzled raven. It had detailed how they had finally found an adequate spot to set up camp and were drawing up plans for a rudimentary settlement. It was short and rather curt, but at the bottom of the parchment, she had written a handful of lines that he had memorized at this point.

_I do hope you are keeping well, Edric. I tell myself not to worry about you, but I cannot help it. Know that if I were there with you, I would hold your hand and let you know that things will be alright, even if they may not seem like it at the moment. We will see each other again, my love. I promise._

That same letter was folded into his belt pouch right now, and his fingers strayed to it as he struggled to keep himself calm.

“What did she say?” His voice was suddenly desperate, holding more emotion than they had in months.

“You know how Cassandra is,” Cullen chuckled. “She manages to sound like she doesn’t need help even when she’s asking for it.”

“Divine Victoria and I promised her a small number of soldiers for her cause if she were to ever need them. Of course, she turned us down months ago, but we would have sent them even if she would not have asked,” Josephine said. They were both smiling at him now, and he wondered if it was because his face had finally broken out of the frozen shell he had been wearing since Cassandra had left all those months ago.

“They depart in three days, Cadash.” Cullen added, his eyes knowing. “Let me know and I’ll ready your hart.”


	2. Return to Him

The sun rose late in the Hunterhorns but Cassandra was already at work; splitting logs and passing them on to the carpenter to shape into planks. The others around her were either assembling the wood into makeshift shelters or handling supplies. Sweat beaded down her forehead despite the crisp air, plastering her hair to the back of her neck. 

They had managed to build a small village in the valley they had discovered; tucked into a forgotten corner of the mountains, only accessible by a narrow tunnel through the rock. The last two months had not been easy however; there was ample forest and game, but the snowstorms were brutal and many a soldier had been lost in a bear attack. Once they had built a fence around the perimeter of their village, they had seen fewer lives lost then, but it was only the first step of a long, long path. A path she hoped she could lead them through.

“Lady Cassandra, there is a caravan approaching!” The scout breathed heavily as she spoke, even as she saluted her. “Inquisition banners. It looks to be the supplies and new recruits.”

“Thank you, Brennan. Tell the guards to open the gates. I shall greet them myself.”

Josephine had sent word of a shipment of supplies and former Inquisition soldiers that were to be arriving soon. Since the Inquisition had disbanded, there were many troops in excess that were still willing to serve a cause, and Josephine had pointed them in her direction. Leliana had screened them personally, and had reassured Cassandra that they could be trusted, which helped allay her fears. After what had happened with the Order of Fiery Promise and Fen’harel’s spies, she had many a reason to be cautious with recruits, especially from within the Inquisition.

They had set off from Skyhold a month ago, and considering the distance between the Frostbacks and the Hunterhorns, it meant that they were yet to arrive. This could only be them.

Standing at the gates that had been thrown open, she shielded her eyes from the sun’s glare so as to look at the newcomers better. There were three caravans and an assorted number of horses escorting them, but there was also something else that stood out. It was a horned creature, picking its way through the horses with ease as it made its way to the front of the party. By the time she recognized it, the others were already beginning to point and shout, and her heart jumped into her throat.

A red hart.

She was halfway across the clearing before she realized her feet were carrying her. The hart seemed to recognize her, and it snorted as it broke into a trot. She could see its rider as it drew closer; a small hooded figure that held the reins with one hand, the other hidden under his cloak.

With each step towards it, towards _him_ , she began to remember her last moments at Skyhold, just before she was to depart for the Hunterhorns. His hand in hers, warm in the summer sunlight, his lips curving into a smile despite his tears. How he promised to write to her, promised a lot of things she knew he couldn’t care less about if he could be by her side, if he weren’t still the Inquisitor. Skyhold’s halls were empty and most of their friends had departed, but he still had work to do, even after everything.

Cadash had been through so much, what with the Breach and Corypheus and every person of note from both Ferelden and Orlais breathing down his neck, how life just took and took and took from him until it was a miracle he was even able to stand it, let alone smile at her the way he did. He would always deny how strong he was, how he would shoulder everything, especially for those he cared for.

He was the one who had insisted that she should go forward with rebuilding the Seekers, and that he would be alright by himself, but she had only made the decision to leave once she felt he was truly able to cope with the aftermath of the Exalted Council. Even now, he would pause mid-conversation and stare into space, his fingers grasping at a limb that was no longer there. His smile was still tinged with sadness, his words not as light as they once were. There was a limit to the pain the Inquisitor could endure and she feared that he had reached it. 

That was another thing about him – how he would always put another’s happiness over his own, even if it destroyed him in the process.

The worst of it was that despite what he would say, he needed her. He had drawn strength from her presence, her love through everything, especially in the last few months. And now she was leaving, her heart heavy and aching for the man she loved, worried at how he would cope alone.  

It tore at both of them, and she could feel his sorrow in his embrace, the way his breath hitched as she whispered her love into his ear. She wished she could have stayed in his arms but the foot-soldier had readied her horse and the gates had been thrown open. They were out of time.

Before she pulled away, she pressed a kiss to his lips. A promise that she would return to him. 

The hart stopped right in front of her, pawing the ground as its breath ruffled her hair gently. She reached out and stroked its muzzle in greeting, all the while watching the figure dismount from the corner of her eye, unable to truly believe that it was him.

Cadash slid off the hart with only a little difficulty and pulled the hood off his head. His hair was long enough to be tied into a ponytail, and his cheeks were covered is more than a week’s worth of stubble, but when he turned to her his eyes burned.

Longing. Exhilaration. Love. 

Before he could say anything, her fingers closed the distance between them, brushing the stubble on his cheeks as she pressed a kiss to his lips, drowning herself in his warmth, the scent and feel of him drawing the dormant ache in her chest to the surface after all these months. She had missed him, she would not deny it, but with the demands of the Seekers she had pushed her emotions aside until now. 

He was here and in her arms and the world felt a little less cold.

“I’ve missed you.”  
  
“As have I.” 

**Author's Note:**

> This is in part a birthday fic to Hammy, and in part me inflicting angst and pain on poor Cadash. But there are always happy endings. Always.


End file.
